


The Tree of Knowledge

by Hobsonphile



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 05:26:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobsonphile/pseuds/Hobsonphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chronological collection of very short Vir-centered fics. (Chapters may be rearranged if more are added!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Departures

**Author's Note:**

> Vir prepares to leave for Babylon 5. 
> 
> Pre-Series. Originally written for Theatrical Muse.

The Centauri sun hung low on the horizon, coloring the thinly spun web of clouds that stretched across the sky a brilliant shade of pink. An evening breeze whistled through the trees, cooling Vir Cotto’s face with a gentle caress. He closed his eyes, breathing in the smell of mud and _linfra_ and river reeds, knowing that it was probably that smell he would miss the most.  
  
"I'm not sure I want to leave," he said softly.  
  
Ugo, the gardener, paused in his shoveling and replied with typical simplicity: "Then don't."  
  
Vir flashed the old man a startled look. "I-I-I don't mean..." he stammered. "I mean, I suppose I've always wanted to see what's out there." His gesture took in the darkening sky. "You know... to find out more about the Humans and the Minbari and everyone else. But maybe... maybe I didn't quite imagine that this is how I would get the chance." Vir stared at the flower resting in his open palm, running one finger over the silky petals and watching them change color at his touch. "They don't want me," he said, and he finally permitted himself to feel the sadness behind those words.  
  
Ugo put down his shovel, his expression taking on a serious cast. "Vir," he began, and Vir was surprised once again. In all the years that Vir had known him, Ugo had addressed him as "young mister Cotto." Not once- until now- had he ever broken that convention. "You are a good boy. You mean well. But if you want to be a good **man** , you must be willing to fight on your own behalf.  
  
"Some men are deserving of your respect and obedience, Vir. And some," and here Ugo cast a disapproving look at the estate, "are not. The challenge is in learning to tell the difference.  
  
Vir didn't know quite what to say to that. He didn't know why Ugo was saying this to him in the first place. Ugo, however, seemed untroubled that Vir did not reply. Plunking his shovel into the dirt, he mused, "I suppose that will have to stand as my final piece of advice to you, young Mr. Cotto. Make of it what you will."  
  
"Final? But we'll see each other again. I can-"  
  
Ugo held up his gnarled hand and Vir fell silent. "I am old and I am tired. And when I look into the mirror these recent mornings, I see the old man of my dream reflected back. I strongly suspect that my death is not far off." Vir broke eye contact, and off of that reaction, Ugo continued: "It's not a tragedy, Vir. I have lived a long and full life- thanks in part to your company."  
  
Blinking back sudden tears, Vir stood and launched himself at Ugo, trapping him in a tight hug. The force and weight behind it was so great, in fact, that Vir nearly sent both of them into a nearby stream. "I'll miss you," he whispered fiercly, trying not to cry.  
  
Ugo stumbled as he sought to restore his center of gravity, then awkwardly returned the embrace. When he finally pulled away, he smiled fondly at Vir. "You are still the same boy who drove me mad saving the lives of all our garden pests." Ugo rested a hand on Vir's chest. "Despite what your uncle might say, **this** is your greatest strength. Don't ever let anyone or anything change that part of you."  
  
His lower lip quivering a little, Vir hugged Ugo again, tighter than before.  
  
It was indeed the last time they ever spoke.  
  
 **End.**


	2. Vices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This scene takes place in 2258 between Born to the Purple and Parliament of Dreams.

The dim light of the club was hardly fit for a myopic young Centauri, so Vir heard the ambassador bellow his name before he saw him - and he stumbled several times over people and chair legs as he crossed the room, paperwork in hand, toward Londo’s table.  
  
“Ah, if it isn’t my killer of merriment,” Londo said as Vir, apologizing profusely, mopped a spilled drink off a young lady’s blue dress. “And you have brought work, I see?”  
  
“Just a few things. I-I-I was starting the preparations for the negotiations over the trade routes in Quadrant 16, and I just had a few- oh!” Vir cut himself off with a squeak as Londo firmly plopped him into a nearby chair. “Or, you know, I-I could sit and watch the show.”  
  
“Vir,” Londo began in a stern baritone. “You have lived on Babylon 5 for quite some time now, yes?” Vir nodded, suddenly apprehensive. “But it occurs to me that, in all this time, I have not properly introduced you. So - sit. I will buy you a drink - and perhaps,” Londo added with a wave of his hand and a flash of his feral teeth, “see to some other services - and you will come to know Babylon 5 as I know it. Yes?”  
  
“Oh, but I-I don’t drink, Ambassador.”  
  
More than that, there was a scent hanging in the air that was activating his asthma. But Londo paid Vir’s protestations no heed, and soon Vir found himself shyly resisting the lips and wandering hands of a slender alien woman, his blush deepening to the approximate color of a _linfra_ berry.  
  
From that point forward, Vir never brought work to the Dark Star.

 

**End.**


	3. No Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during A Day in the Strife, third season.

_"Try again. Fail again. Fail better."_   
~Samuel Beckett  
  
“You are troubled. And you have been drinking.”  
  
Vir sighed and ran his fingers over a large, blue-green leaf. Delenn had steered him into the gardens after he, too preoccupied to pay attention to where he was going, had crashed into her in the corridor. “A little,” he admitted, slurring his words slightly. “Just two.” He looked up, squinting his eyes in thought and rocking just a little. “Or maybe it was three.”  
  
“Because of Londo?”  
  
Vir shot Delenn a look of surprise. Then he pressed his hands against the bench and leaned forward, stilling his fidgets. “I didn’t think… but I-I guess he would ask you.” Then, after a pause: “I’m always being sent away. Ever since… well, ever since I can remember. The only reason I’m here at all is because no one else wanted me.” He met Delenn’s gaze once again. “I-I had twelve different positions before I came to Babylon 5.” The words made his chest ache, deep down. “Did you know that?”  
  
“I did not. But I do not see why that should be important now, Vir,” Delenn replied, and Vir swallowed hard over the lump in his throat. “You have taken what others on your world might see as your failures and have always tried to shape them into something better. And you will take your new assignment and do it again. You understand hope and renewal – even if you don’t realize it. That is something to be praised.”  
  
“But what about Londo?”  
  
“You believe Londo is your failure?”  
  
Vir looked away. “I… don’t know.” _Yes._  
  
“Londo has made his choices.” Delenn’s voice was firm. “He is responsible for his own actions. Perhaps it is time you learn to accept that. To do otherwise is to be unfair to you both.”  
  
For a long moment, Vir said nothing as he turned things over in his mind. “I just wish I could’ve done more.”  
  
“Because you have mistaken the movements of empires as the crux of the war. But it is in the heart – not in the vastness of space – that the most important battles are fought, Vir. And you have won some of those battles already.” Delenn waited until Vir lifted his eyes before she continued: “Londo is not sending you away because you have failed. He is sending you away because you have succeeded – because you have loved him - have shown him light - and he has found that he cannot help but love you in return. Where Londo is now, that love is too much for him to bear. But it is still a victory that cannot be erased. It still matters, no matter what Londo’s future may hold.”  
  
Vir struggled to breathe. “I’m afraid for him,” he murmured. “And… I-I’m afraid that I won’t be good enough.”  
  
“You are not alone, Vir. Lennier and I will help you if you wish it. You need only ask.”  
  
Vir rubbed at his eyes and smiled sadly. “Thank you, Delenn. Thank you both.” He felt drained. “I-I’ll try to meet Lennier tomorrow… if that’s convenient, of course. Right now, though… I-I think I need to sleep on things.”  
  
“Of course,” Delenn replied with a dip of her head. “I will not keep you any longer.” And she was gone, leaving Vir alone with his own thoughts.

**End.**


	4. Pawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vir gave Londo his loyalty, and Londo used it as a game piece. Third Season. Missing scene for And the Rock Cried Out, No Hiding Place.

Vir hadn’t betrayed Londo, even though a large part of him had screamed that he should if only to escape the emotional exhaustion. He hadn’t betrayed him, and for his trouble, an assault was his reward, fast and careless fingers tearing through the layers of his mind to find the secret beneath. Then, for hours afterwards, he sat under armed guard, shivering and alone, his nose running - sometimes with flecks of crimson. For hours, he sat, needing the toilet, wanting a bath, and, most of all, wanting sleep.  
  
Sleep had come later thanks to Londo and two pills - twenty standard hours of sweaty, restless, nightmare-ridden sleep. Only when he had awoken and the drug induced fog had cleared from his mind did it register that Londo had had the pills in his quarters already. He had known before Vir had told him.  
  
When the pieces of the plan were finally laid out before Vir, it took awhile before confusion gave way to anger - and it took longer still before Londo noticed.  
  
And when he did, he didn’t understand.  
  
Londo knew Vir. He had predicted - correctly - that Vir wouldn’t betray his family - wouldn’t betray **him** \- unless he were forced to do so - and he exploited that knowledge. Vir had given Londo his loyalty, and Londo had used it as a game piece.  
  
Clearing his kitchen, Vir came across a bottle of brivari - 2213, a good vintage. And, with one glance at his open luggage, he decided to get drunk.

 

**End.**


	5. Peculiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vir reflects on his relationship with Londo. Fifth season.

Bedras Cotto, head of House Cotto and Vir Cotto's uncle, had a face that seemed as if it were carved in stone. Each feature was ruggedly and handsomely carved- it was said that in his youth, Bedras attracted a great deal of attention from the fairer sex- but there was no light, no expression save for a slight air of disdain for everyone and everything. Even when Bedras disciplined his children, it was a cool and grim affair. Physical affection was an anathema.  
  
Those of House Cotto were not generally known for venturing far from their home estate in the southern province. This made it easy for Bedras to exert considerable influence upon his extended family. And so, for the young Vir, it was often Bedras, not his own father, who stood at the center of his universe as the authority figure to fear and obey.  
  
A life under the scrutiny of his icy uncle left Vir ill prepared for Londo Mollari, who blew through life like the sandstorms on Xonos, roaring with anger one moment, with laughter the next, switching to wistful romanticism in the next moment still, and then, at the last, beginning the cycle again. When Vir reflected upon his time with Londo many years after their first meeting, he could see why a man like Bedras Cotto despised his contemporary so completely. Londo was moved by his passions and, as Citizen G'Kar was fond of observing once his relationship with Londo had achieved its rather remarkable detente, "he never shut up." When an idea or vision seized him, Londo pursued it doggedly until it was achieved.   
  
Vir was well aware of the dark side inherent in such single-minded resolution. But it had its lighter side as well. Because sometimes what overcame Londo was a determination to make Vir laugh at life when Vir felt particularly weighed down by it. Sometimes, just when Vir needed it most, Londo played one of his favorite arias, or took him to a performance, or told a slightly ribald joke or anecdote that made Vir blush and laugh at the same time. And when Londo had at last accomplished his mission and Vir was smiling once more, there was always a touch- an arm thrown casually around Vir's shoulder or a squeeze of Vir's face- that punctuated the moment.   
  
There were certain rules, certain standards of decorum that were expected between an official and his aide- but Londo constantly crossed those boundaries. At first, Vir didn't quite know how to respond. In the first days, he retreated into himself, waiting to see what was permissible. But over time, he became comfortable with Londo's peculiarities and, in the end, even after everything they had been through, he came to discover that he depended on them.

**End.**


	6. Wishing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes dreams can break your heart. Post-fifth season, pre-Sleeping in Light.

As the sun touches the waves, it fills the horizon with a shimmering pink light that fades to a deep violet as it reaches up into the heavens. And as the light disappears beneath the edge of the world, a breeze kicks up, carrying with it the smell of salt and earth and the cries of nocturnal birds.  
  
They have both removed their coats, draping them over their arms, and Vir has rolled his trousers up to his knees to walk along the ocean’s edge. The water that laps onto Vir’s bare ankles is comfortably cool, and Vir privately revels in the feel of the wet sand giving way beneath his toes.  
  
They are arguing, but with affection, about comedy. Vir is trying to convince Londo of the virtues of the Human style with all the youthful passion he can muster, his hands snatching at the air before him to punctuate his points, while Londo fills the evening air with hefty perorations on the superiority of Centauri wits. Londo’s eyes are lively and his demeanor is relaxed. There is no sign of the guilt, the sorrow, or the helplessness Vir has seen drying on Londo’s face on those mornings he has had to wake his friend from his slumber because the computer had not. There is no shadow, no burden, and no destinies to fulfill.  
  
At some point, Vir says something that makes Londo laugh and they pause in their walk down the beach, the rich sound flooding through Vir, tickling him and causing him to laugh as well. Then Londo drapes his arm around Vir’s shoulders, regarding the younger Centauri with a special combination of bemusement, disbelief and love, and Vir knows that look is one Londo reserves just for him. And he thinks that if he could choose one moment in which to exist for all eternity, it would be this moment alone on a beach with one of the only men in all of the Centauri Republic who cares that he lives.  
  
But then the scene dissolves and bleeds away and Vir opens his eyes. He straightens in his chair, his neck crying out in protest, and looks up to find Renegar standing over him in blurry relief. The big Centauri’s concerned eyes fall upon the half-empty bottle of brivari sitting open on the table before Vir, and Vir colors.   
  
“They are here,” Renegar says simply before taking his leave.  
  
Vir takes a deep breath, rises and follows, desolation hollowing him out from the inside.  
  
 **End.**


	7. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vir's first time with Senna. Post-fifth season, pre-Sleeping in Light.

Vir Cotto knows the power of touch. He is Centauri, and the Centauri are a sensual, concrete species.   
  
But there is more to it than that. For Vir, touch is a more effective means of expression than language has ever been. He rarely knows all the words for what he feels- and when he does, he is inelegant at using them. It is easier to clasp arms, to embrace, to fall into the arms of another than to speak of friendship and of love.  
  
Vir knows too the power of attraction. Attraction is that skip of the heartsbeat, that twitch beneath the breast, that warm flush that travels up the face, and always- always- that dizzying sense of free fall.  
  
Most of all, Vir knows that making love is a risk. Betrayal and pain and a guilt that weighs upon him have taught him this. So he is hesitant now in Senna’s bed- even though he knows he has nothing to fear.   
  
Vir has unlaced the front of his nightgown, but has not removed it. He knows what it’s like to be mocked, and so he worries about his bumps, his marks, his imperfections. He wants to keep himself shrouded, but Senna gently, teasingly pushes his gown off his shoulders.   
  
And remarkably, she doesn’t laugh at what she sees of him. Instead, she runs her hand down his cheek, tenderness in her eyes, then leans in and kisses him deeply. Vir smells the light perfume Senna wears as he returns the kiss, his hands trailing down Senna’s back. When he touches the right spot, Senna’s mouth opens and she makes a soft sound of invitation.  
  
 _Can this be real?_ This thought echoes through Vir’s mind as he presses himself against Senna and enters her.

**End.**


	8. Enthusiasms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vir indulges in a little fun shortly after his coronation. Post-fifth season, pre-Sleeping Light.

“Your Majesty, I really must ask that you remove that… foolish hat before the procession proceeds to the celebration.”  
  
From beneath furry white trim, Vir Cotto, Emperor of the Centauri Republic and the heart and soul of his race, asked with a peculiar boyish innocence, “Why? It’s one of their traditions.”  
  
What Minister Andra Jaddo said next was delivered with a carefully composed patience, but if a man were watching closely enough, he would see a subtle twitch in the minister’s jaw. “Indeed, it is.” This particular discussion was well traveled ground. “But your… enthusiasms aside, the people, Highness, are expecting a certain… gravity… a certain… deportment… for so important a diplomatic function. It has been less than a year since the restoration of Earth’s embassy.”  
  
Vir sighed, his face falling, once more reflecting his true age. Sinking onto his throne, he absently ran his hand across the velvet armrest. “Minister… what do you know about the Humans’ Santa Claus?”  
  
“I know that he is a gift giver in their legends. Beyond that, I am aware of nothing else.”  
  
The emperor turned his head to take in the city outside his window, the light of day splashing across his face. “There are actually several legends… several versions. I-I’ve been doing some reading.” Vir squinted his eyes in thought. “There is a story of a Saint Nicholas who, when he was alive, secretly provided a poor man enough money to pay for the marriages of his three daughters. And… there is another story… a poem, actually… that describes this legend as warm and cheerful. ‘Jolly’, I think, was the word the poem used.”   
  
“If I may ask what…”  
  
But Vir continued as if Jaddo had not spoken. “That is the sort of man… the sort of leader… I want to be.” Vir met the minister’s gaze. “There’s been enough gravity… enough death. I’m going as I am. And if the people laugh, let them. They need it.” Vir rose from his throne and touched Jaddo’s face with his hand, his eyes gentle and sad. “And the truth is, so do I.”  
  
Jaddo’s shoulders sank slightly as if his strings had been cut. “And what of your hair, Majesty?”  
  
“It’ll grow back.” A slow smile spread across Vir’s features, wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes. “The Empress Timov trained you well, Andra. What ever happens next is completely my responsibility.” The emperor tightly squeezed both of Jaddo’s shoulders. “Now let’s go. The ambassador is waiting.”  
  
With that, His Majesty strode from the throne room, the ludicrous white pom-pom bouncing behind him.

**End.**


	9. Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late at night, Vir remembers. Post-Sleeping in Light.

Vir ran his fingers lightly over the yellowed page - over the subtle indentations left by a pen pressed against parchment - and bowed his head.  
  
In the seasons since his coronation, all who served the new emperor had steadily adjusted to his oddities. The kitchen staff had come to enjoy indulging His Majesty's peculiar fondness for Earther food for the simple reason that he never failed to visit their corner of the palace to offer them his personal compliments at least once a standard week, every time gracing them with a disarming and strangely innocent grin. The head of the palace guard, at first indignant at Vir's habit of wandering off for solitary sojourns in the palace gardens, had over time learned how to remain vigilant at a distance. And the emperor's advisors had eventually come to accept his distractability and the anxious way he fluttered his hands and wore ruts in the carpets before every public speech.  
  
So when, after his return from Minbar, Vir began to spend many long nights pouring over the chronicles of his immediate predecessor in preparation for the dedication of the statues that were now nearly complete and visible from every window on the north side of the palace, all who dwelt in the palace sought to adjust to this new habit as well. Vir sometimes overheard those advisors he had brought with him from the Legions of Fire attempting to explain things to the rest. "Mollari was his ally. More than that, Mollari was his friend."   
  
But he was far more even than that. If he were ever asked now how he would define love, he would say there were many different sorts. For while he truly loved his two wives and doted on them with un-self-conscious affection - had spent many an evening in their warm embrace - he had loved Londo too.  
  
Each night that Vir disappeared into his study, a single guard stood watch silently outside the door. And if, when His Majesty emerged, his face shined with tears, it went without comment. The guards were Centauri after all. They had been trained since childhood not to notice such things.

**End.**


End file.
